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Three chapters in Wisconsin Local History 



I. Reminiscences of early Grant County, by 
Jonathan Henry Evans 

II. Settlement of Arcadia, by Eben Douglas 
Pierce, M. D. 

III. Settlement of Green Lake County, by 
Richard Dart 



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[From the Proceedings of the State Historical Society of Wisconsin for 1909, 

pages 232—272 



Madison 

Published by the Society 

1910 



Wisconsin Historical Society 



Some Reminiscences of Early 
Grant County 



By Jonathan Henry Evans, in an interview with 
the Editor^ 

Arrival in Wisconsin 

I came to Wisconsin with my parents when I was in my six- 
teenth year, arriving May 15, 1846. We settled on government 
land in the town of Kendall, then in Iowa, but now in Lafayette 
County. Previous to removing to Wisconsin my father had had 
varied experiences, with differing degrees of fortune. He had 
lived near Philadelphia when the Pennsylvania Railway was 
projected and built (1832-35), and being a blacksmith and ma- 
chinist, established a small factory to build freight-cars. 

The State had undertaken a system of internal improvements 
from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh: a railroad from Philadelphia 



1 Jonathan H. Evans was born near Philadelphia, October 29, 1830. 
After serving as a printer's apprentice at Shippensburg, Pa., he came 
West with his father in 1846, as here narrated. After attending 
Platteville Academy (1851-52), he taught country school for a term 
and entered the mercantile business at Platteville. He was register 
of deeds of Grant County (1857-1861), and during the War of Seces- 
sion was sutler of the Thirty-third Wisconsin Infantry. Reentering 
business life, he held many local offices, such as president of the vil- 
lage of Platteville (1870) and county supervisor for several terms. 

He has been a director and vice-president of the First National Bank 
of Platteville, since its organization (1891), and for many years was 
actively engaged as a dealer in real estate. During this time he sur- 
veyed and platted over twenty subdivisions to the city of Platteville. 
Chosen in 1872 a member of the Board of Regents of State Normal 

[ 232 ] 

D. Of D. 

IV!AH 29 m .^- 




JOXATHAX HkXRY EvaNS 



Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

to Columbia on the Susquehanna, thence a canal, follow- 
ing the watercourses to the headwaters of the Juniata at Hol- 
lidaysburg; from this point a railway, by a series of inclines, 
five up and five down, carrying the boats over the mountain to 
Johnstown, where the craft again took to the water for Pittsburgh. 
These boats were built in three water-tight compartments, each of 
which could be floated on to trucks and thus pulled over the 
mountains. The freiglit cars were first constructed to run on four 
wheels, and about a third the length of the modern cars. This 
was the style built by my father, who was one of the pioneer car 
builders in the United States. The State owned the railway and 
canal ; individuals or companies owned the rolling stock and 
boats, paying toll to the State. The first rails were iron bars about 
the size of an ordinary wagon tire ; these were spiked on wooden 
string-pieces, perhaps six inches square. For the first two or 
three years the motive power was horses driven tandem. Soon, 
however, steam supplanted horses. Larger cars, with eight 
wheels, were built in Philadelphia, and my father's small factory 
was put out of business, so he removed to central Pennsylvania, 
and engaged in canal-boating on the Juniata and Susquehanna. 
He was one of many individuals who owned boats and paid toll 
to the State. 

"We left Pennsylvania in April, 1846, travelling by canal to 
Hollidaysburg, thence by rail over the mountains to Johnstown,^ 



Schools, he served as such for a long period, being for many years-, 
president of the board. Mr. Evans has also been prominent in the- 
Masonic order of the State, and has devoted much time to the study 
of natural history, especially mineralogy. In 1855 he married Miss; 
Sarah Kilbourne of Columbus, Ohio. For some years past, he has; 
lived in retirement, but still retains a keen interest in educational; 
and other public affairs. 

On August 11, 1908, the Editor of the Society's publications visited 
Mr. Evans at his home in Platteville, and through the medium of a 
stenographer obtained the verbal recollections herein set forth. The 
method of securing this data accounts for its lack of literary form, 
and somewhat disjointed character. So far as is practicable, Mr. 
Evans's exact words are here preserved. We should have preferred 
to have him work over the material into a connected article; but 
this he has found it impracticable to do. He has, however, revised 
the sketch as here presented. — R. G. T. 

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whence we floated by canal to Pittsburgh. There we boarded a 
steamer down the Ohio to Cairo, and up the Mississippi to St. 
Louis, where we changed to another boat which brought us to 
Galena. The journey that then took twenty-one days could now 
be accomplished in one. 

At some place below Louisville we saw a steamboat anchored 
in mid-stream. It proved to be a "wrecker" at work recovering 
salvage from a sunken steamer. Our boat stopped, and we 
watched them working with a diving bell. A man went down in 
it and sent up all kinds of stuff. We were told that many lives 
had been lost; but all we saw was a lot of merchandise hauled 
up from the wreck. 

My first impression of Platteville (1846) was that of a village 
located in a dense forest ; its area was perhaps forty acres. The 
buildings were mainly frame, but some were of log, and there 
were two or three unpretentious brick structures. There were 
probably seven or eight hundred inhabitants, chiefly men en- 
gaged in lead mining. It was noticeable that there w^ere but 
few old people, all being of middle age or under. As my 
acquaintance grew, I was much impressed with the general in- 
telligence of the people, who had a much higher average than 
those of central Pennsylvania whence I came. At the time I 
could not account for it, but subsequently learned that most of 
the people who came to southwest Wisconsin were attracted 
thither by the reports of the fabulous mineral wealth of the 
district. As the means of communication from the East and 
South at that time (1827^6) were few and difficult, none but 
venturesome spirits, endowed with energy and enterprise, would 
emigrate to this region, so remote from the comforts of civiliza- 
tion. The travelled route was mainly by water dovm the Ohio 
and up the Mississippi; hence the earliest settlers were from 
points contiguous to those waters — Virginia, Kentucky, Missouri, 
Indiana, and Illinois furnished the majority, while New York 
and other Eastern states sent small contingents. 

At this early date most of the land was imcultivated ; both 
prairie and timber were in primitive condition, hence there were 
many old Indian trails to be seen. I remember one in particu- 
lar; it came from the east, passing south of the mounds, thence 
through the ravine northwest of the village, and down the waters 

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Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

of the Platte towards the Mississippi. There had been an In- 
dian camping place on the limits of the present city ; but as far 
as I know, no regular native village on the site. For years 
after we came, Indians were frequently seen here, mainly 
Potawatomi and occasionally "Winnebago. They were all re- 
moved to eastern Nebraska about the time of the admission of 
the State (1848). I have seen as many as eight hundred here 
at one time, probably when they were gathered for removal 
from Wisconsin. They usually camped where there was plenty 
of water, either on the Peckatonica or Platte. In their inter- 
course with the whites they were peaceable ; but living a kind of 
gypsy life, they would steal pigs and other domestic animals 
such as dogs and calves, that came in their way during the night. 
They were inveterate beggars, never omitting to ask for whisky. 

Watching a Wheat Field 

In this connection, a little incident happened to me when I 
was a lad. In the fall of 1846, a man named Brown had taken 
up a claim and sown a field of about twenty acres of wheat, a 
few miles from the nearest settlement. He then left to get a 
winter's job and did not return in the spring to look after the 
crop. The wheat grew finely, and being unfenced was open to 
roving stock that began to graze upon it, the wheat being more 
fresh and tender than the surrounding prairie grass. A neigh- 
bor with whom Bro^vn had worked the previous year, declared it 
was a great pity to have such a fine crop spoiled by the cattle ; 
that it would pay some one to watch the crop until it was ripe. 
I was doing nothing at the time, and said, ' ' If you will give me 
half, I will watch it until it is ripe. ' ' This was agreed, and on the 
next Sunday my father, my brother, and I went out to the field 
with a yoke of oxen and built a sod cabin. I camped there that 
night, and staid four months alone, my only companion being a 
good and faithful dog. My door was a blanket. One night a 
big buck Indian poked his head through this portiere and 
grunted at me. I was so startled that I grabbed my gun. My 
first thought was to shoot him ; fortunately I did not, or his 
kinsman might have scalped me. 

About the 10th of August, Brown returned and assisted in 
threshing the wheat. There were six hundred bushels, worth 

16 r 235 1 



Wisconsin Historical Society 

iixty cents a bushel. My father got three hundred bushels of 
this, which was a pretty good thing in those early days. 

My father did not follow his former business very long. Al- 
though raised a Quaker, he was much of a military man, having 
been lieutenant-colonel of a militia regiment in Pennsylvania. 
He was good looking, and prided himself on his military bearing. 
Although of little education, he was, like Rountree, a natural 
leader of men. As early as 1840 he used to go out and lecture 
on temperance in country school-houses — he was a radical tem- 
perance man, never using either tobacco or alcohol. My mother 
was of Pennsylvania-German stock, and was raised a Lutheran. 
Neither of them remained in their religious sects, however, after 
they were married. 

Stage Lines 

All the mails and most of the passengers in northern Illinois, 
eastern Iowa, and southern "Wisconsin, were carried by a large 
firm named Frink & Walker, whose headquarters were in Galena. 
The coaches used by them were of the big old Concord variety, 
and there were frequent relays, so that passengers were carried 
quite expeditiously and at reasonable rates. I went to Madison in 
1855 to sit on a federal jury, riding from Platteville all the way 
in one of these stages. Coaches left Galena — twenty-five miles 
away — in the morning, arriving at Platteville about nine or ten 
o'clock, and reaching Madison about ten o'clock that night. The 
old ridge road was followed. We struck the military road at 
Dodgeville, and proceeded over it to Blue Mounds, and thence 
to Madison. This is much the same route as is now followed by 
the Chicago & Northwestern Railway, at least from Dodgeville 
into INIadison. The coach itself went on from Madison to Mil- 
waukee. There were relays of horses about every ten miles, and 
we went along at a full swinging trot. The firm issued regular 
time-tables, and kept pretty well to their schedule. Another 
line of stages went to Milwaukee by way of Janesville. 

When going from Platteville to Chicago, the coaches first 
went to Galena. From there, was a splendid line right through, 
by way of Freeport and Elgin. The line to Prairie du Chien 
was also important ; this went by way of Lancaster. 

I have spoken of the old military road to Madison. This went 
across the State along the best line of travel, following a well- 

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Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

beaten Indian trail. Like all primitive peoples, Indians kept 
to ridges and watercourses in their trails, which was easier than 
going in straight lines, like our modem ' ' section roads. ' ' West- 
ward from Madison, this military road lay on the watershed 
between waters running into Wisconsin River and those flowing 
southward — thus it went through Blue Mounds (Ebenezer Brig- 
ham's old place), Ridgeway, Dodgeville, and Montfort. 

Hauling Lead 

This was one of the old roads for carrying lead between the 
mines of southwest Wisconsin and the lakeport of Milwaukee. 
The ore was smelted at the local furnaces in close vicinity to the 
mines, and run into pigs ready for market. Some copper was 
likewise smelted at Mineral Point, and run into circular pans, 
when it was hauled away in the same manner as lead, reaching 
the same markets. The lead went by ox-teams, in great can- 
vas-covered wagons, the load being rated at about a ton of metal 
to each yoke of oxen. As such a team accomplished a good day's 
work if it travelled twenty miles, the distance between Platte- 
ville and Milwaukee was covered in eight to ten days. Some- 
times tramps and others ''down on their luck" would travel 
with the lead caravans, but travellers generally regarded it as 
too slow a method. 

It should be understood, however, that most of the pig lead 
and copper from Wisconsin mines went to Galena, whence the 
bulk of it was dispatched by steamers down the Mississippi, seek- 
ing New Orleans and New York markets; some went up the 
Ohio to Cincinnati and Pittsburgh, or was distributed along the 
Ohio River route. How large a proportion of the output went 
overland to Milwaukee, by caravans, to meet lake vessels that 
carried it to Buffalo and other Eastern markets, I have no means 
of knowing ; it was doubtless a rather small percentage. 

Early Roads 

Many of the roads through this region were made before I 
came into it. The road from Potosi was open when we came, 
also that from Platteville to Lancaster, New Diggings, and Ben- 
ton — those were all mining places, and there was constant com- 
munication between them. There were few farms then; just a 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

vast prairie between liere and Shullsburg. Such roads as there 
were, followed, as I have said, the lines of least resistance, wind- 
ing along the ridges and then through the valleys. Later, 
after the federal surveys between 1833 and 1835, the roads 
went at right angles, following section lines. 

There were, of course, no railroads in the pioneering days of 
southwest "Wisconsin. Platteville was wholly dependent on the 
common roads to get its goods and ship out its minerals. Most of 
our merchandise came by way of Galena. Milwaukee was then 
a relatively small toAvn^ — not so large as Platteville ; but it was a 
lakeport, with Eastern connections by water, and that made it 
important. I ^^•as for several years in the mercantile business 
in Platteville. It generally took a day for us to get a load of 
goods from Galena by horse-team, and two days by ox-team. 
I'he wagons came by way of Hazel Green. This overland haul- 
ing by wagon added greatly to the cost of merchandise. 

A great many goods came to us from Dubuque by ferry. We 
did not then consider those slow methods of transportation in- 
conveniences, but took them as they came. Dubuque was an im- 
portant centre, but not so much so as Galena. The latter quite 
outdistanced Dubuque until the railroad came. Galena sub- 
scribed liberally toward building the road, while Dubuque would 
subscribe nothing, wdth the curious result that w^hile Dubuque 
was helped by the new highway of steel. Galena was irretrievably 
damaged by it. 

Steamboating on the Mississippi River was a profitable busi- 
ness before the war and the general shifting of transportation to 
the railways. The amount of money made by the steamboat 
companies was something truly magnificent. My business af- 
fairs took me up and down the river a great deal, in those days. 
I was always filled with admiration of the splendid organization 
of the service, and the picturesqueness of the voyage, which was 
varied with interesting incidents. 

There is nobody alive now, who was in business here at the 
time I was. I do not know how it happened that I survived all 
the rest of them ; but here I am. I attribute my good health to 
the good habits and splendid constitutions of my father and 
mother. 



[238] 



Reminiscences of Early Grant County 



A Wisconsin Giant 

During the early years of our residence in Wisconsin, my 
father's nearest neighbor was Randall, a Scotch giant, seven feet 
six inches tall, who in the summer time travelled with Barnum's 
circus. Randall lived between Mineral Point and Platteville, 
eight miles from the former and twelve from the latter. He 
was in many respects a remarkable man. Most giants are mon- 
sters — not well proportioned ; but he was a splendidly-propor- 
tioned fellow, and although weighing 420 pounds, had no extra 
avoirdupois tissue. From his thumb to the end of his little 
finger he would span thirteen and a half inches. One day he 
came to my mother and wanted to get a setting of ducks' eggs. 
He was bare-headed, and when she asked him what he had to 
carry them in, he said that one of his hands was sufficient — 
and indeed he did carry that whole setting back home in his 
hand. Randall had bookish tastes, and many of his friends 
gave him books. Among others he had Rollin 's Ancient History^ 
which I borrowed from him and read during that summer when 
I was watching Brown's wheat-field. I believe that those four 
months I spent in watching the wheat was as good literary train- 
ing as I ever put in. T had good company in books, as well as 
my good dog. 

In winter time, when the circus business was shut doA\Ti, and 
Randall had nothing to do in his own line, he used to haul lead. 
He would load up the metal with his bare hands, picking up 
pigs weighing from seventy to seventy-five pounds and easily 
piling them up. His wife was a giantess, too — six feet, four 
inches in height — and she also travelled with Bamum. Charley 
Stratton, popularly called "Tom Thumb," was one of their com- 
panions ; he emphasized the giant stature of the Randalls by his 
own diminutive size. 

Game 

I never saw a happier lot of persons in my life than were the 
pioneers of this region. Yet we never had fresh fruit. I had 
been in Wisconsin three or four years before I saw a peach, and 
I came from a peach country. We did not have canned fruit, 
either. We used to get blackberries and crab-apples from the 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

woods. There was, however, a great abundance of game; every- 
body went out to hunt. The first winter we were here, there 
was a great snow, and deer were plentiful. Hunters brought 
venison into Platteville, and so great was the supply that they 
never thought of bringing the forequarters. Generally, they 
"brought only the saddles, and sold these for two or three cents 
a pound. Prairie chickens abounded, and sometimes wild ducks. 
"Wolves, too, were quite numerous. 

Decadence in Lead Mining 

The slump in the lead-mining industry began in 1849 or 1850, 
when the gold fields of California began to attract the miners to 
what promised to be a more lucrative region. This decadence 
came suddenly. There were from three to four hundred men 
mining here, and two hundred and fifty of them went to the gold 
fields, which made quite a difference in our population. Our 
miners were chiefly Cornish, and good miners they were, too, 
making first-class citizens. The falling off in mining in this 
region continued until 1854, when the bottom pretty well 
dropped out. 

I attribute the decadence very largely, in addition to the loss 
of miners, to the increase in the value of the land itself. Own- 
ers are very reluctant to have their land prospected. John H. 
Rountree owned thousands of acres around Platteville. Some 
of his property decreased in value over fifty per cent by reason 
of mining debris left on the ground. I seldom allowed any- 
body to do any mining on my own property, because I did not 
want to damage the land for sale. A prospector says, "I want 
to explore your ground for zinc." He makes a contract to be 
permitted to drill an eight-inch hole. If he finds good showing, 
he makes a further contract to sink a shaft down to the mineral, 
^nd then the owner of the land gets a tenth of the proceeds. 
Take a big zinc mine, and right at the shaft they irrevocably 
destroy an acre or two of land. Unless a man gets a pretty 
good royalty, it is better to preserve the land. I know of a 
tract south of here, that is so dug up that it does not amount to 
anything. Generally, one can raise crops more valuable on top, 
than below. 

Here is an instance of good profits made by a landowner, in 

[240] 



Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

our own day, when zinc mining has been revived and prosperity 
has returned to the region : This man owned a three-cornered 
piece of land, and wanted to sell it for $3,000. The neighboring 
mine-owners would not buy, but contracted for it for mining. 
Boring a hole, they found it rich, and wanted to know what the 
owner would take for it. His price was now $6,000, which they 
declined to pay. The following March, after paying $6,000 in 
royalty, they wanted to know what he would then take for the 
property. His price was now $30,000, which they would not 
agree to. But they had to pay him over $30,000 in royalty, 
so that he was well paid for his ground. While you can find 
lead and zinc on every lot in this town, mining is nevertheless a 
gambling game. I once put $400 into a mine, and that is the 
last I ever saw of the money. 

I well remember the excitement in 1865 about the alleged 
discovery of oil in this region. It was a downright fraud. 
Some parties bought a barrel of oil, and boring a hole in the 
ground put the oil into it. They then put more oil in barrels, 
and said it came out of the well, and on the strength of this 
sold shares in their company. The same year, over in Crawford 
County, the gang worked the same trick. Major Rountree was 
greatly excited over the supposed discovery. He owned about 
five thousand acres in Crawford County, and I sold it for him. 
There was no oil ever found on it. No man who understands 
geology would advise any one to put any money into oil-stock in 
this section. 

James Gates Percival 

I knew James Gates Percival, M^ho came here in 1863 as our 
State geologist. He was one of the most interesting men I ever 
listened to. Percival used often to stop \Adth Major Rountree, 
and being a relative of the family I met him there. Percival 
was then an elderly man, and dressed in very shabby clothes, his 
suit not costing over ten dollars. However, despite his very 
plain garments, he was neat about his person. He wore shoes 
when most people w^ore boots. At I remember him, he was not 
more than medium size, with rather sharp, narrow, spare 
features, a little stoop-shouldered, and looking much like a labor- 
ing man, save for his strong face. He had wonderful eyes. I 
do not remember their color, but should say they were blue. 

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On the whole he was a pleasant-looking old man. But to hear 
him talk — there was the charm. He was not inclined to be 
cordial with people in general. Unless approached in the proper 
way, he had nothing at all to say. To see him at his best one 
should meet him at the tea-table and get him into familiar con- 
versation. He impressed you as a man of power. Whatever 
he said meant something. 

John H. Rountree 

As for Major John H. Rountree, I knew him well from his 
middle age to his death, and was at his house when he died. 
The Major was very popular in this region. He was a man of 
strong intellect, without much education. Such learning as he 
had, was largely acquired through contact with educated men. 
Being prominent in this locality, he was in the legislature for 
many j^ears and ran for lieutenant-governor and county judge. 
Mixing with all sorts of people, he had naturally rubbed off 
some of the rough corners. He was a splendid man to his 
family, and had a devoted, loving wife, who was a South worth — 
Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth's sister-in-law. I did not myself 
know Mrs. Southworth, the . novelist, for she left Wisconsin 
before 1846. 

Major Rountree left a good many papers, but I hardly think 
they are of much value. There are some at his house now. 
Those that came into the estate, which I settled, his son and I 
sorted over, saving what we thought were valuable and burning 
.up bushels and bushels of others, some of which might have 
brought other people into trouble. I still have a bunch of let- 
ters in my safe. They often mention public men such as Gover- 
nor Dodge. 

Other Notables 

I was acqiTainted with Henry Dodge, by sight ; but a boy of 
seventeen or eighteen years of age is not apt to get on intimate 
terms with the governor of his State. I saw him first, during 
his second appointment as Territorial governor (1845^8). He 
was quite popular hereabout, because of the considerable num- 
ber of Southerners. In fact, the first people in our lead region 
were from the South, from INIissouri and Kentucky ; later, came 
Yankees from the East. 

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Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

George Wallace Jones, our first Territorial delegate to Con- 
gress, was also one of my acquaintances. I saw him in Platte- 
ville only a short time before his death, which occurred in 1896. 
A nice-looking old gentleman, he was polished in manner, al- 
ways well-dressed, and had many desirable accomplishments. A 
Virginian, he cultivated all the arts of social life, and would not 
permit too much familiarity. His memory was marvelous. He 
had not seen me for ten or twelve years, but when we met at a 
public gathering he seemed easily to recall my name. 

Nelson Dewey, our first State governor, I also knew. Indeed, 
he lived more years in Platteville than in Cassville ; but resided 
at Lancaster before being elected governor. He used to come 
to Belmont to see Miss Kate Dunn, whom he married. 

Other prominent men who lived in Platteville or the vicinity 
were Charles Dunn, the first chief justice of the Territory; 
Ben C. Eastman, a member of Congress ; Orsamus Cole, for 
many years chief justice of the State ; James R. Vineyard, an 
early legislator of the Territory; and J. M. Goodhue, a lawyer 
and journalist, later the founder of a leading newspaper in 
St. Paul, ]\Iinn. These pioneers had much to do with making 
history for Wisconsin and shaping early legislation for the 
Territory and State. 

Old Belmont 

In the days when I knew Belmont, where the first Wisconsin 
Territorial legislature met in 1836, there were still some five or 
more houses in the already decaying village ; although today 
there is nothing there save the old capitol, that is now used as a 
barn, and Judge Charles Dunn's house (now a farmhouse). I 
used to be told, as a boy — and that was only ten years after the 
session — that the senate met on the ground floor of the old capi- 
tol, and the assembly upstairs. In 1848, while I was still a 
minor, I was tally clerk of the presidential election that was 
held for our precinct in this building — Zachary Taylor, whom 
many of the neighbors had known when he was commandant at 
Prairie du Chien, was running for president. 

Recollections of U. S. Grant 

General Grant was also an acquaintance of mine in the ante 
helium days. His father, Jesse, was senior (and absentee) 

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partner in the firm of Grant & Perkins, leather merchants at 
Galena. Ulysses had been in the army, down at St. Louis, and 
married Julia Dent. He tired of army life, however, as our 
best military men do in time of peace. His father-in-law gave 
him some land and he rented a house, but made a most signal 
failure of farming — indeed, he almost starved. Then he ap- 
plied for a place as civil engineer in St. Louis, but somebody 
else with more political pull got the job. 

Old Jesse Grant had several sons. Among them was Simp- 
son, who cared for his father's interests at the store in Galena. 
Simpson died at St. Paul, while on a business trip, and Jesse 
thought he would now have to do something for Ulysses. He 
wrote to him to go from St. Louis to Mr. Perkins at Galena, and 
do whatever he was bidden. Meanwhile, Jesse had written to 
Perkins that he was going to send Ulysses to take Simpson's 
place, but that Perkins should pay him only what he thought 
he was worth. 

When Captain Grant appeared in Galena, Perkins set him at 
work, and after awhile wrote to Jesse: "Ulysses is here, and 
I have put him to work. I think he is worth about forty-five 
dollars per month, but he is drawing more." Indeed, I used to 
be told that he drew about ninety dollars a month, to pay his 
rent and support his family. But old Jesse paid the balance 
himself — I don't know whether Perkins knew this or not. 

If you ever go to Galena, go down Main Street, then up Bench 
Street for a short distance. There you will find a little story- 
and-a-half brick house that would perhaps rent in Platteville for 
ten dollars a month — that's where Ulysses lived at that time. 
After the siege of Vicksburg, the citizens of Galena built a resi- 
dence for him, but he never lived in it. 

Captain Grant used to come up through this region to repre- 
sent the firm. He rode in a one-horse open buggy, in which he 
carried leather samples, not only seeking trade but collecting 
bills. In those early days he was not at all impressive in ap- 
pearance, being a short man, and rather spare. If he had not 
afterwards developed into a great man he would have quickly 
passed from one's memory. 

The first time I ever met him I didn't see him. It was a 
starlit night in January, 1861, just before the war. Col. 
John G. Clark and I were county officers, and were riding to 

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Reminiscences of Early Grant County 

Lancaster, the county seat, having been at Madison during the 
senatorial contest between Randall, Howe, and Washburn. 
Where Fennimore now stands, was then but a wide expanse of 
prairie, with no houses in sight. We there met a team strug- 
gling through the snow drifts, from which two men hailed us, 
asking how and when they could get to Widow Philbrook's. We 
replied that they were about a mile and a half off the road. 
One of the men said, "Ain't you Evans?" He said he was 
j\Iark Brown, travelling for a liquor dealer named Lorraine, and 
added, "I want to introduce Captain Grant." That gentleman 
said, "You'll have bad news when you get home, gentlemen." 
He explained that Mr. Hyde, landlord of the Mansion House 
at Lancaster, had dropped dead, and everything was in such 
confusion that they had decided to come up to Philbrook's and 
spend the night there. 

Grant was often in Platteville after the war. I remember 
chatting and tallying with him in 1868, in my store, and giving 
him a cigar. He took it and put it in his mouth — but he didn't 
smoke it, only chewed on it, as Sheridan also used to do. 



245] 



Wisconsin Historical Society 



The Settlement of Arcadia 



By Eben Douglas Pierce, M. D. 

The valley of Trempealeau River must have been known to 
the early French garrisons who occupied a post among the 
Sioux; for more than once they wintered near Trempealeau 
Mountain, and dispersed throughout the surrounding region in 
search of game, or followed bands of Indians for trading pur- 
poses.^ The east bank of the Mississippi was common limiting 
ground for the Menominee and "Winnebago ; and when the Chip- 
pewa moved south and west from Lake Superior, in the third 
quarter of the eighteenth century, they did not dispossess these 
tribes of their preserves, but confined their own hunting to the 
regions north of the river called by their name. The Trempe- 
aleau River and its tributary streams were noted for large 
game, both elk and deer abounding; and buffalo were not un- 
common in the vicinity, as geographical names testify. No ac- 
counts of Indian or French visits to this valley are, so far as 
known, recorded, and it is not possible now to tell who were the 
first to visit the site of the present village of Arcadia. 

According to Winnebago tradition, Augustin Rocque had 
hunted and trapped on the Trempealeau as far back as 1820. 
Rocque was probably but one of many half-breeds who made 
headquarters at "Wabasha's Sioux village, on the site of the pres- 
ent Winona, and sallied thence in search of game and furs in 
the pleasant valley of the Trempealeau. But to Americans this 
region was not open for settlement until after the purchase of 
the Indian rights to all this territory, and this did not occur un- 
til Wisconsin was separated from Michigan, and erected into a 
territory of its o\yji. 



1 For the French in this region, see Wis. Hist. Soc. Proceedings, 
1906, pp. 246, 247. 

[246] 



Settlement of Arcadia 

After the flood of new settlers that poured into Wisconsin at 
the close of the Black Hawk War had taken up the best lands in 
the southern portions of the present State, covetous eyes were 
turned to the upper Mississippi region, and the government was 
importuned to extinguish the Indian title. Accordingly in the 
autumn of 1836 the chiefs of the Winnebago were called to- 
gether at Portage, and Gen. Henry Dodge, governor of the new 
Territory, and likewise general Indian agent, entered into a long 
series of negotiations with the tribesmen for a sale of their lands 
north of Wisconsin River. This they refused to do, alleging 
that these were their homes, and that they had no more land 
that they wished to sell to the whites. The council thereupon 
broke up without results.^ 

The following summer (1837), a band of twenty of the younger 
chiefs was induced to go to Washington, under the conduct of 
Thomas A. Boyd, sub-agent at Fort Winnebago, and Joseph 
Moore, Joseph Brisbois, and Satterlee Clark, traders of influence 
among them. Nicolas Boilvin, Antoine Grignon, and Jean Roy 
accompanied the delegation in the capacity of interpreters. The 
chiefs declined at first to make a treaty, saying that they were 
not authorized by their tribe to do so ; they at length yielded to 
pressure brought to bear upon them, and on November 1 signed 
a treaty conveying away all their lands in Wisconsin for about 
$1,500,000 to be paid in annuities. The agreement was that the 
tribe was to remove from Wisconsin within eight months after 
the signing of the treaty ; although it is claimed by some of their 
friends that the signers understood that they were to have eight 
years in which to make the change.^ The removal of these 
tribesmen was accomplished, therefore, Avith great difficulty. 
Many of them straggled back to their old haunts, and for years 
wandered in the northwestern and central counties of the State, 
where some of their descendants may yet be found in scattered 
bands. 

The title to Trempealeau valley was thus cleared, but it was 
several years before actual settlement took place. James Reed, 



2 Wis. Hist. Colls., viii, p. 318. 

3j(i., vii, pp. 359, 393; Indian Treaties (Washington, 1904), pp. 
498-500; Niles's Register, liii, p. 146. 



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Wisconsin Historical Society 

to whom the settlement of Trempealeau city is credited,* made 
several journeys up the river in quest of furs, soon after the 
treaty of 1837. The Bunnells came to this region in 1842. Wil- 
lard B. Bunnell hunted and trapped on some of the tributaries 
of the Trempealeau in the autumn of the same year, naming Elk 
and Pigeon creeks because of his successful hunts thereupon. In 
the autumn of 1843, the two brothers Bunnell, in company with 
Thomas A. Holmes and William Smothers, ascended the 
Trempealeau as far as the present village of Independence, 
where the party camped and spent several days hunting elk in 
the surrounding country.^ 

The valley had been a favorite hunting ground of the Indians 
long before the coming of white hunters, and tradition concerns 
itself with some of the principal landmarks, such as Bam Bluff ; 
but the occasional hunters and trappers who penetrated into the 
interior, enjoying their wild life of adventure, had no purpose to 
settle the country, and little dreamed the low marshy grounds 
along the Trempealeau River would ever afford a site for a vil- 
lage such as Arcadia is at the present day. 

When the first settlers arrived at Arcadia (1855), they found 
a defence of breast-works, proving that some time soldiers had 
visited the place. The apparent age of the excavations at that 
time indicated they had been built several years before. Julius 
Hensel, a veteran of the War of Secession and an early settler in 
Arcadia, reports that the Indians claimed that a company of 
soldiers came up the valley shortly after the Black Hawk War, 
and near the present village of Arcadia met a band of Indians. 
No hostilities occurred, but the soldiers deemed it prudent to be 
prepared in case any evidence of enmity on the part of the 
tribesmen should be shown, and therefore erected breast-works. 
Where the soldiers were going, or what their mission may have 
been, has never been ascertained, and any effort to gain more in- 
formation concerning their movements has thus far been futile. 

The first permanent settlement of Arcadia came about in the 
autumn of 1855. Collins Bishop, George Shelley, and James 
Broughton had made the journey by team from Southern Wis- 



*Wis. Hist. Soc. Proceedings, 1907, pp. 252, 253. 

5 L. H. Bunnell, Winona and its Environs (Winona, 1897), pp. 
237-240. 

[ 248 ] 



Settlement of Arcadia 

consin to Fountain City, driving with them a herd of fifteen 
cattle. At La Crosse they learned of vacant land located in the 
town of Preston, which then included the present town of Ar- 
cadia. A few weeks were spent at Fountain City, during which 
time Mr. Bishop took up some swamp and State land. But the 
desire to visit the large tract of unoccupied land in Trempealeau 
valley still possessed the minds of the homeseekers, and on an 
autumn morning fifty-three years ago they set out afoot for the 
new country. The party was composed of Collins Bishop, George 
Dewey, George Shelley, and James Broughton, and they fol- 
lowed an Indian trail that connected the Mississippi vsdth the 
lands on Black River. 

They hit the trail with eager feet, for their hopes were high, 
and before them drifted visions of future homes of peace and 
plenty. Over hills and through valleys, across streams and 
through dimpling meadows of wild grass they worked their way, 
and in a few hours Glencoe Ridge was reached. Here they were 
overtaken by a lone footman, who was also looking for land. 
The new companion was Noah Comstock, a tried and faithful 
pioneer who brought with him the experience of a "forty- 
niner," and whose knowledge of surveying was a valuable aid to 
the land-seekers. The party journeyed on until the late after- 
noon, when they arrived at the home of George Cowie, where they- 
passed the night. Early the next morning they set out for their- 
destination, and, inspired by the fresh autunm air, and the ex- 
hilaration of adventure, the distance to Trempealeau River was; 
soon covered. 

"When the river was reached they drew cuts to see who should' 
wade the stream and find a fording place. This was easily ac-. 
complished, for the water was but a little more than knee-deep>. 
and a fording place was found a short distance from where the 
bridge now stands. From the river to the hill they followed an 
Indian trail that led over nearly the same ground as the present 
Main street. When the summit of the hill was reached, a tree 
was sighted, and owing to the scarcity of trees the land-hunters 
decided to utilize it for a bearing tree. They were not disap- 
pointed, for when they came to the oak it proved to be just what 
they anticipated; and not far from it was a hole in the ground, 
which after examination Mr. Comstock concluded was a section-. 

post mark. 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

The day was spent in looking over the new country, and ex- 
amining its soil and general features with a view of locating. 
At night the men returned to Cowie's home, and the next day 
came bar^k prepared to take each a quarter section of land, and 
select a favorable building spot. This done, they returned to 
Fountain City well satisfied with the prospects of the new coun- 
try. 

Late in the same autumn Collins Bishop hired James Brough- 
ton and a Mr. Davis to build a house on his quarter-section. 
They erected this near the bearing tree, the site chosen by Mr. 
Bishop, and used logs for the main part, with boards for the 
roof. This was the first house in Arcadia, and some of the 
boards from the old cabin are still doing service on Mr. Bishop's 
barn in East Arcadia. The old tree under which the cabin was 
built, still stands, a majestic landmark and rustic monument 
commemorating the coming of the first settlers in 1855. 

The next spring Mr. Bishop took possession of his new home 
and broke several acres of land. This was the first soil culti- 
vated in Arcadia, and the crop gathered in the autumn was en- 
couraging to the infant settlement. During the spring and 
summer of 1856 other settlers came, and by winter several, houses 
had been built, and the little community had made itself known 
to the neighborhood. The settlers petitioned (1856) the county 
board that Preston township be divided, and a new tovm formed. 
Then it became necessary to decide upon a name for the rising 
village. Previous to this time it had been known as Bishop's 
Settlement, while some called it BarntoAMi, on account of the 
number of barns erected by the early settlers. The petition re- 
garding the formation of the new town was granted, and so one 
winter day the pioneer neighbors met at Bishop 's cabin to name 
the town. To the women this privilege was granted, and Mrs. 
David Bishop (later IMrs. Charles Mercer) offered the name Ar- 
cadia, suggested by Noah Comstock, which was accepted. 

Arcadia, with its new name, grew steadily, and with the 
gro\^i:li came the inevitable changes incident to our Western 
mode of rapid development. 

Mistaken identities were responsible for the names of two of 
our prominent bluffs. Noah Comstock 's mistake in regard to the 
section-post mark in the ground near the old bearing tree, gave 

[ 250 ] 



Settlement of Arcadia 

him a bluff in East Arcadia. He was not compelled, however, 
to retain the quarter section containing this waste of land ; but 
ever since the error was discovered, the bluff has been called by 
his Christian name, Noah's Bluff. Barn Bluff was called "Gage's 
Barn" until the railroad was built, when it took its pres- 
ent name. Mr. Gage on his way across the hills from Trempeal- 
eau one moonlight night saw in the distance what he supposed to 
be a barn, and arriving at Bishop's house mentioned what he 
had seen and asked whose barn it was that had attracted his at- 
tention, and caused him to turn towards the lighted cabin win- 
dow, where he found a hearty welcome. From that day until 
the railroad came the bluff was called Gage's Bam. 

Few towns the age and size of Arcadia have yet in their midst 
the first settler of the place. But the venerable pioneer who saw 
the dawn of Arcadia, and who paved the way to our present 
prosperity still helps to till the soil on the old place he took as a 
homestead fifty-three years ago ; and although the snowy hand of 
winter has touched his brow, he still possesses a clear and active 
mind that reflects the wholesomeness of a full-orbed life. His 
fibre is akin to the old oak under Avhich he reared the first cabin 
in the to^^ai, and with a memory enriched by a variety of inter- 
esting experiences, he enjoys recounting events of the pioneer 
days gone by. He is the last survivor of the first set- 
tlers, and in looking back over the departed years he can see the 
contrast between the early awakening of the little settlement, 
and the progressive and modern town of today. 

The dream of the pioneer has been more than realized. He 
has seen this county changed from a favorite hunting ground of 
the Indian, to a rich agricultural land; from a low, marshy 
swamp to a beautiful and prosperous village ; from a wilderness, 
to a populous commimity, where instead of barren hills and val- 
leys in a wild state of nature, we have the cozy homes of a con- 
tented people, nestled among the woodlands, where silence has 
departed and left in her stead the song of the housewife and the 
plowboy. 



i^ \ 251 



Wisconsin Historical Society 



Settlement of Green Lake 
County 



By Richart Dart^ 

e 

Exploration 

About the last of April, 1840, my father, Anson Dart, started 
southward from Green Bay with Samuel W. BealP to explore 
the Green Lake country, which, having been purchased from the 



1 The following narrative was secured by Rev. Samuel T. Kidder of 
McGregor, Iowa, in 1906, when president of Ripon Historical So- 
ciety. Mr. Kidder had several interviews with Richard Dart, and 
much of the narrative is in the latter's own phrasing. Afterwards, 
when in manuscript, it was carefully revised by him. Richard Dart, 
son of Anson and Eliza Catlin Dart, was born May 12, 1828, in New 
York city. His removal with his father's family to the township of 
Dartford, Wis., is herein narrated. Mr. Dart still lives in the vicinity 
in excellent health, and with a remarkable memory for his early 
Wisconsin experiences. — Ed. 

2 Samuel W. Beall was of Maryland birth (1807), and educated at 
Union College. After his marriage in 1827 he removed to Wisconsin, 
where in 1834 he was appointed receiver of public lands at Green Bay. 
At the expiration of his term of office he went East, but m 1840 re- 
turned to Wisconsin in order to locate there permanently. After sev- 
eral years in the Green Lake country he removed to the neighborhood 
of Fond du Lac, where he was agent for the Stockbridge Ii;dians. He 
served in both constitutional conventions, and was lieutenant-governor 
in 1850-52. After locating at Denver, Colo., for a few years (1859-61), 
he volunteered for service, was chosen lieutenant-colonel of the 18th 
Wisconsin regiment, and severely wounded at Shiloh. At the close 
of the war he removed to Helena, Mont., where he was shortly after- 
wards shot and killed in an altercation. — Ed. 

[252] 





m \ 

W. 1 

i \ 

ii 

ti 



Axsox Dart, 1797-1879 
From a dagueri'eotype in possession of the family 




Richard Dart 



Settlement of Green Lake County 

"Winnebago Indians,^ had been surveyed in 1839 and opened to 
the market in 1840. Beall having been in the land office at 
Green Bay was interested in this Green Lake country, rumors of 
whose fertility and attractiveness had reached his ears. Half- 
breeds and others were telling what a beautiful region it was. 
So Beall and Dart started on horseback up the great double 
Buttes des Morts trail.* From Knaggsville (now the Algoma 
district of Oshkosh) they followed the trail southwest until they 
reached the place where it ran a mile or two south of Green 
Lake. There they remained some weeks exploring. Both 
picked out land that they approved. 

Father chose an eighty-acre tract half a mile south from Green 
Lake Sandstone Bluff, on a little stream that ran in from Twin 
Lakes, just east of Spring Lake. The stream was much larger 
then than now. The lakes have receded, and the outlet is now 
nearly dry. Father and Beall went entirely around the lake, 
exploring with a view to settlements. There were no settlers 



3 Mr. Dart says that the rank and file of the Winnebago knew 
nothing of this government purchase. It was effected by agency men, 
who got the chiefs drunk and secured the cession papers. The gov- 
ernment paid no principal, but ninety-nine years' interest with no 
entail to the Indian's family or children after his death. The rate 
of interest was small, and mostly eaten up in advance through the 
Indians getting trusted at Fort "Winnebago agency for adulterated 
and poisonous whiskey. Mr. Dart considers that the Indians were 
badly treated by rascally traders and agents. — S. T. K. 

* The big Butte des Morts trail ran from Green Bay along the 
northwest baihk of Fox River to Knaggsville (now the Algoma dis- 
trict of Oshkosh), thence southwest past the site of Ripon; thence 
westerly to Marquette, the seat of Marquette County; thence to Fort 
Winnebago, at Portage. There were no settlers in the Ripon or 
Green Lake region as yet. One branch of the trail struck off to 
Powell's spring and Le Roy's plantation. 

Dr. H. L. Barnes of Ripon says that the trail crossed his father's 
farm, now owned by Almon Bradley, three miles northwest of Mark- 
esan. Thence it went over the hill, past the old Whittier place; it 
then passed near Satterlee Clark's, and across to Deacon Staple's 
farm on Grand Prairie. A son of John S. Horner recollects that this 
trail passed by the Steele and Foltz farm and kept near the timber 
line along the edge of the prairie, and that Satterlee Clark lived 
nearly a half mile north. — S. T. K. 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

there as yet, only wigwams of the Winnebago grouped or scat- 
tered round the lake. There was no timber there then, but oak 
and clay openings, with Green Lake prairie to the south. ^ 

Settlement 

On returning to Green Bay, my father and brothers bought a 
large, wide skifp, something like a Durham boat, big enough to 
hold a ton of merchandise. This we loaded with provisions and 
supplies, and my father, my two brothers, Putnam and Charles, 
and myself, then a boy of twelve, started up Fox River. We 
worked our way slowly, rowing, poling, or towing by line. It 
was hard work because of the rapids. At the little and great 
Kakalin or Chutes," the government had military stations, 
equipped with wide-wheeled, low carts, supplied with tackle; 
and, for a consideration, they hauled up boat, load and all, 
around the rapids. 

Fox River was then a rushing, broad stream, a third larger 
than it is now. Besides the hard work it was a lonely trip, for 
we could not talk Menominee — that was the tribe then most 
prevalent on the lower Fox — nor could the Indians talk English. 
We saw their large bark-covered houses made of peeled oak 
bark hung over poles, placed between crotched posts. Many of 
them had seen but few Americans before. 

We had neither map nor guide, and the river was so winding 
that it was all guess-work as to when we should meet the Green 
Lake outlet, now called the Puckayan. We supposed it would 
be the first stream met after passing Lake Winnebago. So up 
that stream we started. The water began to grow bad-colored, 
but we kept on. The stream grew smaller and smaller and 
clogged with reeds. Logs fallen across it had to be sawed off. 
Progress was painfully slow. The third day from its mouth, we 
came out into Rush Lake, shallow and muddy, lined with broad 
marshes. We were forty rods from dry ground, with mud all 
around. We had to get out into the mud, imload what camp 
outfit we needed for the night, and wade through the mud and 



5 Mr. Dart was not personally present on this first exploring trip, 
but has heard his father describe it. — S. T. K. 

6 Now Kaukauna and Little Chutes. — S. T. K. 

[ 254 ] 



Settlement of Green Lake County 

marsh to a place dry enough for a camp. Swarms of mosquitoes 
aud deerflies were eating our life out. "We saw flocks of ducks 
and prairie chickens. The Indians were at that time nearly all 
away from this their popular resort. "We were very tired, but 
there was nothing to do in the morning but take our stuff back 
to the boat, turn round as best we could, and pole our way back 
to the Fox. 

"We had no further mishaps, and when we actually saw the 
Green Lake outlet there was no doubt of it. Its stream of pure, 
bright spring water shot clear across the river. We knew then 
that we were all right. 

It took us two days to wind up through the marshes to Green 
Lake. The last night we camped opposite the present Dartford 
boat-landing, where the road-bridge crosses toward Sherwood 
Forest resort. It was then surrounded with alders and marshes, 
and we did not know, that beautiful June night (June 11, 1840), 
that we were so near the lake. When we passed out from the 
thickets into Green Lake,'^ the next morning, we shouted with 
joy. 

There was at this time no heavy timber around the lake, ex- 
cept at the foot, in the marshes — only what were called "clay 
openings, ' ' burned over each autumn by the prairie fires. Com- 
ing up the crooked outlet, we had in one place gone around over 
a mile, by measure, to reach a place only a few rods from our 
former position, whereas we could have pulled our boat across 
the marsh and saved time. Rattlesnakes were plentiful ; marshes 
were on both sides, most of the way up ; deer-flies and mosqui- 
toes made us perfectly wretched. 

We soon crossed the lake and reached our land, of which my 
father recognized the quarter-section corner. We lugged our 
stuff up by hand from the lake, erected a shanty for shelter, and 
at once went to work to build a plank house. We split and 
hewed white oak planks, about two inches thick by six feet long, 
and set them upright, two lengths end-to-end twelve feet high, 
held together by grooved girts or stringers. We used poles for 
rafters and "shakes" for shingles, the latter shaved out of green 



7 The Indians always used the French appellation for both small 
and large Green Lake, calling them respectively Petit Lac Verd and 
Grand Lac Verd. We could never get them to use any other name. 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

oak. We built a large fire-place, and a stick-chimney plastered 
with yellow clay. The roof was fastened on with tacked cross- 
pieces. 

This house, of two rooms and a little attic, stood half a mile 
south of Sand Bluff. We kept our boat secure from the wash 
of the waves, either in the bay west of Sand Bluff or at the Cove 
where the Spring Grove resort now is, three miles below. The 
building was not all finished at once, but by slow degrees. We 
had in stock two barrels of flour, one barrel of pork, four bar- 
rels of potatoes, a few groceries, and $4 in money. We also had 
salt, pepper, Indian (or maple) sugar, but no butter or delica- 
cies. We soon got out of salt and other things, and to restock 
meant a journey to Green Bay. We were thirty miles from any 
other Americans, the nearest settler of our nationality being at 
Fond du Lac. 

Winnebago Indians, who were then being collected at Portage 
for transportation, were plentiful, but our only civilized neigh- 
bor was Pete Le Roy.^ We got him and his ox-team to come 
over that month and break up for us a half acre that had been 
cleared by the boys, and in which we planted yellow corn. 

There being no mill, we made a huge mortar by boring out a 
hard, white-oak log, and, with a heavy hickory pestle, we ground 
our corn. As the mortar held but two quarts, it was only by 
rising at four o'clock that we could get enough meal pounded 
for a breakfast Johnnie-cake. The coarser part we boiled as 
samp, for dinner, and had cornmeal fried for supper, with 
neither milk nor butter. 

We had to pay $100 apiece for our first yoke of oxen, and $100 
for our first cow ; that is, in work, for we had no money. The 
cow we bought from Fox Lake, the oxen of our neighbor, Pete 



8 Pete (probably Pierre) Le Roy was a half-breed trader-farmer, 
whose plantation lay four or five miles south of us, three miles due 
south of where the Centre House now stands. Le Roy had a big 
spring on his place, the source of a creek tTiat bears his name. He 
was a son of the Le Roy at the Portage, mentioned in Wis. Hist. Colls., 
vii, pp. 346, 360; see also Mrs. Kinzie, Wau'bun. for whom Pierre Roy 
acted as guide in 1S31. He was in Pauquette's employ, and moved 
on as the country settled. One of his daughters, a pretty girl, went 
insane, to Le Roy's great grief. 

[256] 



Settlement of Green Lake County 

Le Roy, who was a kind-hearted man and allowed us to split 
rails for him, in payment. That was all the stock we had the 
first year. 

Panthers 

In the autimin, father and I started with two yoke of oxen, 
along the military road east of Lake Winnebago, to go to Green 
Bay for mother and my sisters.^ They had come to Buffalo by 
the Erie canal, thence to Mackinac in the steamer ''Consola- 
tion," and from there in a schooner to the Bay. The vessel was 
becalmed among the Manitou Islands, and was a fortnight late 
in reaching its destination. 

While father and I were gone, the other boys stayed alone. 
Only two sides of the house were finished, and a few roughly- 
hewn boards constituted the floor. Soon Le Roy came over, con- 
siderably excited, and said, "You must come over and stay with 
me ; a big panther has been seen — two of them, in fact, near the 
lake. They'll come and kill you, if you stay here." These 
beasts had already been heard snarling at night — great fellows, 
nearly as big as a yearling calf. The boys told him that, hav- 
ing drawn up their bunk, with ropes, to the foot of the rafters, 
they thought they would be safe. He urged strongly, but they 
didn't go with him, for it was the time when yellow corn was 
ready for roasting. 

One evening, when the boys sat about, toasting corn, they 
heard the bushes crack. 

"What's that?" 

"Can't think, unless one of Le Roy's cattle has strayed 
away. ' ' 

But that could scarcely be, for his place was four miles off. 
Then they heard a strange whine — almost a scream. The ani- 
mal was walking around them. Then came a tremendous 
screech. It was the panther. They were scared enough, for 
they had no guns. The beast soon started off on the trail to- 
ward Le Roy's. Each boy grabbed a blazing brand from the 
corn-fire and started for the shanty, whirling the brands round 
his head. Father was gone two weeks, and the boys were well- 



9 These sisters became Mrs. Mary Keene of Newark, N. J., and Mrs. 
Elizabeth Johnson of Minnesota. 

[257] 



Wisconsin Historical Society 

scared during that time and didn't sleep very well. The 
panthers came round, off and on, for a month and a half, but 
never molested us. Finally the Indians came over and shot 
them both. They were the only pair that had visited that neigh- 
borhood for years. 

Pioneer Hardships 

When mother came, only two sides of the house were up. 
One side was partly open the first winter, except for a carpet 
hung up. Wolves and other wild animals would come and peer 
through the cracks at the firelight. Sometimes the stick chim- 
ney caught fire, and to prevent 'this occurring too frequently we 
had to keep it well plastered over with clay. 

Even after the house was finished it was very cold, for the 
joints were not tight. We tried to plaster up the cracks with 
white marl, but when dry this came crumbling off. Sometimes 
we used old newspapers, as far as we had any, to paste over the 
cracks. While we had no thermometer to measure the cold, I 
am sure that the winter of 1843-44 was the worst we ever ex- 
perienced. 

Very early that season, two and a half feet of snow fell. 
Then came a January thaw, followed by fine weather, like In- 
dian summer. Then more snow came, and clear cold weather 
with sharp, cutting winds. Many wild animals were starved 
and frozen, and it was known in pioneer annals as the "great 
bitter winter." To add to the strangeness of it all, there was 
seen in the west a great comet, whose tail seemed to touch the 
ground. We nearly froze in our rudely-built house, for we had 
no stove — only a big fire-place, where in twenty-four hours we 
would sometimes burn two cords of four-foot wood. It took 
hard work for the boys just to keep the fires going. Nor did we 
always have enough food; again and again I have seen my 
mother sit down at the table and eat nothing, since there was not 
enough to go around. 

Our house was built Avithout a stick of anything but green oak, 
but we needed some sawed pine lumber for finishing. In the 
second year, we got enough money together to buy a little lum- 
ber. Then we borrowed an old wr!3;on and a yoke of oxen from 
Pete Le Boy, and George, my oldest brother, started with the 
outfit for Green Bay. He arrived safely, got a jag of lumber 

r 258 1 



Settlement of Green Lake County 

and a few groceries, and started home by the military road, east 
of Lake Winnebago. On the return, the oxen gave out from ex- 
haustion, somewhere between Tayeheedah and Fond du Lac. 
George camped on the spot, among the prairie-wolves, until 
morning, but rest had not relieved the beasts.^° So, reluctantly, 
he left the wagon and the load by the lake-shore, and got the 
animals home as best he could. 

After almost a week at home, they revived, and then George 
went back after his load. But when he reached the place where 
it had been abandoned, there was nothing left but the wagon- 
irons. The prairie fires had run through and burned out the 
country for twenty miles each way.^^ What could be done? 
We had lost the lumber, and the wagon was borrowed. As cus- 
tomary in those days, my brother had brought an axe with him; 
so he cut a timber crotch, bound stakes across, with withes tied 
on the burned wagon irons, and set out for home. It took a day 
and a half to drag the crotch and the load to our home. Father 
being a mechanical genius and a mill-wright,^^ went resolutely 
to work, and hewed out a rough wagon of green oak, seasoned in 
hot ashes. It took a month or two to finish this rude cart, but 
at last it was done, and dear old Le Roy was satisfied. 

All the while, w^e were clearing and breaking land. It was 



10 The only settler in this region was Dr. Mason C. Darling, whose 
cabin at Fond du Lac stood on the river near the post-office site; 
later, he lived where Darling's block stood, on the corner of First and 
Main streets. 

11 Every fall we had to burn round everything — house, sheds, and 
stacks — to save them from these fires that annually swept the prairies. 

12 My father, Anson Dart, was born March 6, 1797, in Brattleboro, 
Vermont. Gaining some knowledge of drugs, he became a druggist in 
New York city, where he Imported from France the first ounce of qui- 
nine brought to America. Later he removed to Oneida County, New 
York, and became a miller, having a large mill at the town of Delta. 
Afterwards he lived awhile in Utica, being constructive superintendent 
of the asylum at that place. He came West in 1835-36 ard made in- 
vestments in Milwaukee, and also in pine lands, but lost them all in 
speculation. Daniel Whitney of Green Bay once offered the company 
my father represented, $100,000 for their pine lands, but father laughed 
at the offer. In the reverses of 1837 he was ruined, and finally took 
up land in Green Lake County, as herein narrated. 

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thin and poor in the clay openings, and as yet we did not know- 
how to farm to advantage. Father used to repair grist-mills 
and sawmills as far off as "Watertown, leaving us boys to run 
the farm. Finally we got enough money together to go up on 
the prairie and buy a ' ' forty ' ' of better land, with richer soil. 

Father built a grist-mill for Samuel Beall in 1843-44. It 
stood where there is still to be seen a remnant of an old dam on 
the south side of Green Lake, three-fourths of a mile south from 
Sand Bluff. Father ran this mill for two years; then the little 
lakes" began to dry up, the water gave out, the mill-site was 
abandoned, and the mill pulled down and carried off. My uncle, 
Mr. Catlin,^* came from Delta, Oneida County, New York, in 
1843 and was father's miller while he ran the Beall mill. 

Game 

In the early years of our coming to Green Lake, there was 
plenty of small game — ducks, pigeons, and prairie-chickens. 
Deer were plentiful, except when they went south in winter to 
escape the cold. There were likewise wild turkeys and plenty 
of geese. Elk and moose were found upon Willow River, and 
occasionally around Green Lake. Shed elk and moose horns 
were then often found here ; some weighed from sixty to seventy 
pounds. We saw no buffalo, but their wallows and chips and 
horns were visible, and seemed recent. Le Roy said that he had 
seen these prairies black with buffalo. The elk and moose soon 
went north, or disappeared. In cold, dreary winters, game was 
scanty. 

Green Lake was much resorted to by Indians, but Lakes Rush 
and Puckaway more so, because of the abundance of wild rice, 
ducks, and fish. In winter, when these lakes had frozen over, 
and Green was still open, the latter would be visited by immense 
flocks of big mallards. 

In tracking game, the Indians relied on stealth and skill, 
rather than marksmanship. They were generally indifferent 



13 Old residents say that Twin Lakes were practically one in the 
early day, so were considerably larger than at present. 

14 He came all the way from New York by wagon, and it took him 
from spring to autumn to come through. 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

shots, and had very poor "agency" guns. But they stole noise- 
lessly upon their game, made no noise when they walked, and 
displayed remarkable sagacity in getting close to their prey un- 
awares. They took no chances with dangerous game ; many of 
them would shoot at the same animal simultaneously, to make 
sure. 

One afternoon, late in the season, we saw a lonely deer stalk 
past our camp, and down the lake valley, where we lost sight of 
him. That evening, an Indian came along. We told him of the 
deer. 

He said, "I get him." 

"Oh," we said, "you can't. He's far away by this time." 

"Yes," he replied, "I get him tomorrow," and he lay down 
near our camp to sleep. 

We laughed at him, but he was as good as his word. Rising 
early, he did not follow the track of the deer, but started across- 
lots, dovni the valley, and got around the animal, which, as he 
anticipated, had, after a long journey, laid down tired, for a 
night's rest. The Indian shot him, almost before he waked. 
We boys followed the trail closely, next day, and proved that it 
was the same animal we had seen. 

Prairie Flowers 

I wish I could adequately describe the prairie flowers. Every 
month during spring and summer they grew in endless variety — 
such fields of changing beauty, I never saw before. It was a 
flower-garden everywhere. You could gather a bouquet any 
time, that couldn't be equalled in any greenhouse of New York 
or Chicago. There were double lady-slippers, shooting-stars, 
field-lilies, etc., etc. Some of them still linger beside the rail- 
way tracks. We tried over and over to transplant them, but 
only the shooting-stars would stand the change. There was also 
the tea-plant, whose leaves Ave dried for tea. When in blossom, 
the oak and clay openings, for miles around, were white with it, 
like buckwheat. We also had splendid wild honey from the 
bee-trees. 



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Strawberry Story 

Gov. John S. Horner^ ^ had entered land where Ripon now 
stands, along Silver Creek and Gothic mill-pond. He wrote to 
father to take the earliest chance to go down and look over his 
valuable water-power. So four of us went in June, 1843, to the 
place where the old stone mill in Ripon afterwards stood, and 
viewed the land and stream. It was just at the crossing of the 
Big Buttes des Morts trail — but we looked at the water-power 
and laughed. 

Coming back, we were skirting along the big marsh by the 
Dakin place, in Green Lake township, when a deer jumped out. 
We let him have two barrels of buck-shot, but he gave no sign 
of being wounded — simply stopped and looked back. My 
brother then shot him through the heart with a rifle, and taking 
his hams over our shoulders, we went on. 

We were coming up near where you go down Scott Hill, by a 
thicket on the prairie, about the site of the old Bailey farm, 
when we snuffed a delightful odor — the smell of ripe straw- 
berries. We followed it up and found a place as big as an 
eighty-acre lot, that had been burned over, all covered with ripe 
wild strawberries as big as any tame ones you ever saw, and so 
thick that you could not lay your hand down without crushing 
berries. The ground was red with them, bushels and bushels 
for the picking. We carried home our handkerchiefs full, also 
everything else we had to hold them. 

The next day we took the ox-team, laden with pails, pans, 
wash-tubs. etc. — everything that we had, to carry things — and 
the whole family went over. Whenever we had picked a lot, we 
went over to the shade of some plum-trees and hulled the berries, 
so as to take home the more. We filled all our dishes, but ex- 
actly what to do with them we scarcely knew. We had no sugar, 
save maple made by Indians, and this was very dirty. The 
natives used to pack this sugar in large baskets of birch-bark, 
and sell it. 

How to dispose of the berries was a practical question; but 
when we reached home we were glad to find guests — David Jones 



15 For a biographical sketch of John Scott Horner, see Wis. Hist. 
Soc. Proceedings, 1905, pp. 214-226.— Ed. 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

and Richard Arndt from Green Bay, who had come down to pros- 
pect. We therefore hung the berries up in a large linen bag, 
half a bushel at a time, and squeezing out the juice, treated our 
friends to strawberry nectar, which was certainly a drink fit for 
gentlemen. * We improved this strawberry patch for one or two 
years, but at last the wild grass ran them out. 

Indian Visitors 

During our first j^ears on Green Lake our most frequent visit- 
ors were Indians, usually of the Winnebago tribe. They would 
stalk up to the window and peer in, or open the door without 
knocking. One midsummer day in 1842, while we were eating 
dinner, there was a rap at the door, which we opened. There 
stood a stalwart, richly-dressed Indian whom we did not know. 
He had no gun, his only weapon being a long lance whose shaft 
was decorated with three white eagle feathers, tied on with deer- 
sinew. It was the symbol of his rank, but we did not know this. 
We shook hands, and he asked whether we could give him some 
dinner. We welcomed him to our modest feast, as we usually 
did such callers, and found that he talked English quite as well 
as we did. 

After eating, he said: "I'm astonished to find you here. No 
white man was ever seen here before. I wonder that you are 
alone. I shouldn 't have found you now ; only, as I passed up the 
trail [from Green Bay to Portage] I saw a wagon-track crossing 
it and coming this way. This excited my curiosity. I followed 
it. and found your house." 

He asked many intelligent questions, and we also questioned 
him. He said that he would like to have a long talk with us, 
but must go, for he had to reach Portage that night. We 
thought it useless for him to try to do so, and vainly urged him 
to stay. While we saw him to be very intelligent and bright, he 
bad not told us who he was. 

' ' How much shall I pay for my dinner ? " he asked. 

"Nothing. You are welcome." 

"But," he replied, "I always pay for my dinner." 

We still declined anything, whereupon he took out a fine buck- 
skin pouch, vrell-filled with shining half-dollars — thirty or so, I 



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should think. Taking one out and playing with it for a few 
minutes, he then tossed it to my little sister. 

"I don't want to be bragging of who I am," he said on leav- 
ing; "but you have treated me kindly, and it is fair for you to 
know that I am Dandy, chief of the Winnebago.^^ I thank 
you!" 

It was the first and last time that we ever saw him. He 
started back toward the trail, and soon passed out of sight. He 
was a splendid fellow, and it seems had, at the risk of his life, 
come back on a secret visit from the reservation at Turkey River, 
Iowa, to transact business for his tribe at Green Bay. 

Captain Marston's Story 

Captain Marston, army officer at Portage, in the 40 's, told us 
the following story of Dandy, whom he greatly admired, and 
vouched for its accuracy. 

Dandy had been back from Turkey River, Iowa, several times 
without leave. He was forbidden by the federal government to 
visit Wisconsin, but insisted on coming when he chose. 

Marston said to Dandy, one clay, "Dandy, you are back here 
again against orders. I threatened you before with punishment, 
and here you are again." 

Dandy answered. "Captain Marston, it was necessary for me 
to come for my tribe's sake. I told you what to expect. I could 
not do anything different. I shall certainly come again if busi- 
ness for my tribe makes it necessary." 

IMarston replied, "Very well. I will tell you what to expect, 
and I shall do as I say. Mark my words. If I catch you back 
again in Wisconsin without my permission, I will hang you up 
at the flag-staff yard in Fort Winnebago. ' ' 

Dandy said: "You can't scare me a bit, Captain Marston. 



J« Mr. Dart says: "Dandy was about twenty-five years old in 1840, 
was then head chief of the Winnebago, at the time of the deportation, 
and one of the brightest, finest looking young men I ever saw." This 
does not comport with Moses Paquette's statement that Dandy was 
about seventy in 1848, "a small thin man, of rather insignificant ap- 
pearance " See Wis. Hist. Colls., xii, p. 409; but see also Id., vii, 
p. 365.— Ed. 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

My business here concerns the interests of my tribe. I shall do 
what I think is needful." 

Captain Marston was angry, but they parted without further 
words. Some two months passed, when one day a runner came 
up the Wisconsin river from below, in a dugout, and reported to 
the captain, "Dandy is down the river, about six miles." 

"What! Dandy, the Winnebago Chief?" 

"Yes." 

"I can hardly believe it," said Marston, "he wouldn't dare 
come. He isn't the man to do that, after w4iat I told him when 
he was here last." 

"Well," said the runner, "come with me and I'll show him to 
you, or show you where I saw him — beside a big thicket, sitting 
on a log, smoking his pipe." 

Marston hastily mustered a well-armed squad of about twelve 
soldiers, and went doT\Ti the river wuth the spy until they came 
to the thicket. At first. Dandy was not to be seen ; but hardly 
had they fastened their horses for further search, for the thicket 
was dense and several acres in width, when Dandy appeared, 
calmly sat down on a log and began to smoke. 

"Dandy, I'm surprised. Why are you here again?" said 
Marston. "You know what I said I would do, if you returned. 
I shall keep my word." 

At the same time he signalled to his armed men to advance 
around him, which they did. Dandy sat complacently on the 
log and quietly knocked the ashes out of his pipe. He only said, 
"Captain Marston, I told you I should come and why I should 
come. You hurt my feelings and do me wrong by treating me 
so. I am here because it is necessary, and I do no one harm." 

Marston answered, "Well, you know what to expect. I shall 
have to do as I said, and make you an example." 

"Very well," said Dandy, "you see I am here, and in your 
power. ' ' 

Marston then replied, "If you've got a pony here, get him and 
come with us. Our guns cover you, and you are in our power. 
It is useless for you to try to get away. If you try, you will be 
shot. You must go back to the fort wnth us." 

Dandy said, "Follow me where my pony is;" and he pushed 
calmly back into the thicket, the soldiers following closely, with 
guns ready to fire. In this manner they penetrated the thicket 

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for some thirty or forty rods. Marston, growing a bit suspicious, 
stopped them and asked, ' ' Dandy, where is your horse ? ' ' 

' ' Right here. I didn 't bring him outside, for fear he would 
get hurt." 

"Well, be quick, for I'm going to take you back to the fort 
and hang you. You are my prisoner." 

"Do you realize what you will come to, if you insist on this?" 

' ' You see my twelve men surrounding you. They mean busi- 
ness, and will shoot if you don't hurry. You can't get away." 

Just then Dandy jumped up on a log, pulled out an Indian 
whistle, and blew a shrill call. In an instant, fifty Indian war- 
riors jumped into view from a thick brush, each buck with a 
rifle aimed at IMarston's little body of men. There was a mo- 
ment of silence. 

"Now," said Dandy, with a faint smile upon his lips, "if I 
blow tliis whistle again, every man you've got is a dead man. 
Will you take Dandy back to the fort, before he is ready to go, 
or not?" 

Whereupon Marston, seeing his plight, answered, "Well, I 
see you have caught me in a clever ambush." 

The chief replied, "I won't injure a hair of your head, or 
any of your men, Captain Marston, unless you oblige me to." 
Upon his signal, every Indian rifle dropped. "Now, Marston, 
take your choice. I was your friend. I never wronged you. 
You distrusted me, hurt my feelings, and forbade me to do my 
duty to my people. I have showed you what I can do." 

In silence, Marston and his men turned from the thicket and 
retreated up the river to their fort. 

Big Soldier 

Big Soldier, who in 1840 was fifty years old, was a subordinate 
chief, or captain, of the Winnebago. He was the first Indian 
we saw at our house, and one of our best friends. Strictly 
honest, and always ready to do anything for us, he slept in our 
house at times and we in his wigwam. He became very im- 
portant to our suceesss in getting along. He told us ours was 
the first white man's boat he ever saw cross Green Lake. 

He got the name of "Big Soldier" in the summer of 1840, 
when Col. William J. Worth was rounding up the Winnebago 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

and bringing them into Portage. He was there with his band, 
good-natured, talkative, and a great favorite with the soldiers. 
Naturally a clean and dressy Indian, he was fond of finery and 
of white men's ways, and greatly admired Colonel Worth's 
regimentals. One day he asked Worth if he couldn't put them 
on and wear them awhile, around the fort. For fun. Worth 
consented. 

"Yes," he said, "wear 'em every day if you want to." 
So the Indian fixed himself up, oiled his hair, put on Worth's 
uniform, and very proudly strutted about in Uncle Sam's regi- 
mentals, drawing himself up to full height and grunting out, 
"Heap big soldier!" He did it so grandly that it brought 
down the garrison, and they always, afterward, called him "Big 
Soldier." 

Big Soldier hated the Iowa reservation and wouldn't draw his 
pay out there. He preferred to get his living as he could pick 
it up, back here in Wisconsin, where he was born. When he 
went away he had to hide his ponies to save them. We used to 
keep them for him in our pasture. 

Indian Mounds 

Y/e learned to talk the Winnebago dialect, and used to ask Big 
Soldier what the Indian mounds were, and what they were for. 
He had but one answer, "Winter wigwams." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why, places rounded up high to camp on in winter, where 
the water will easily run off." 

There were trees on some of these mounds, a foot and a half 
in diameter, yet he always said "winter wigwams." We plowed 
up in our fields white flint arrowheads and pieces of pottery, 
which were just as great a curiosity to him as to us. His tribe 
had no such white flints or pottery. He explained the irregular, 
effigy-mounds, as having been built so as to run their wigwams 
off on arms, and not have them on one line, but in various 
groups. There is no doubt that the modern Indians so used 
these mounds, and they seemed to know of no other use or origin. 
Still, some of them did contain burial places. 

The Winnebago used to make small mounds to presei've their 
provisions. When plentiful, they dried fish in the sun till they 
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were dry as powder, then put them in big puckawa sacks. The 
squaws also picked up bushels of acorns. In deep holes, below 
frost-line, they w^ould bury their fish and acorns together, 
twenty bushels or so in a place, and cover them over with a 
mound of earth. When the deer had gone south, and game was 
scarce — they dared not cross the river into the timber, for fear 
of trouble with the IMenominee — they would come and camp on 
these mounds^^ and dig up fish and acorns for their winter food, 
and live on this provender until spring opened or game ap- 
peared. It was hard work making such caches, with the tools 
that they had. 

Indian Deportation 

My father's brother, Oliver Dart, came to Green Lake two 
years after we did (1842). One day he took several of us with 
him and walked over to Portage to see the Winnebago being 
gathered in to be sent off to Turkey River, Iowa. This was 
their second removal. Colonel Worth's regiment, that had cut 
the military road from Calumet to Fond du Lac, was entrusted 
with the work of rounding the Indians up at Fort Winnebago. 
They were greatl}' distressed to know that they were to be de- 
ported. Some would lie down on the bank of the river, break 
down and cry like children, and would beg the soldiers to bayo- 
net them rather than drive them from their homes. Bad whis- 
key had been their curse. We traded more or less with them 
and sometimes one would say he had nothing to sell, but finally 
would bring out from concealment a fine, big buckskin of three 
pounds' weight, worth $3, and offer it for whiskey. We never 
let them have it, but they could always get it at the Portage. 

Pioneers 

Besides Le Eoy there had been a half-breed in our vicinity, 
undoubtedly the first civilized settler of the present to\^Ti of 
Green Lake. This was James Powell, who had 160 acres under 
cultivation as early as 1835 or 1836, near the present Mitchell's 
Glen. Part of his land was afterwards occupied by A. Long. 



1' Remnants of such mounds are still visible on low ground back 
of the residence of S. D. Mitchell, near Green Lake. — S. T. K. 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

There was a fine spring on the place, since known as Powell's 
Spring. This great spring and the green-turfed clearing where 
his plantation stood, are still visible ; he had a rail fence around 
his place, which was near the Grand Buttes des Morts trail. 
He was a powerful man, and besides a double log-house had a 
blacksmith shop, and was one of Pierre Paquette's traders, as 
was Gleason at Puckaway Lake. He was drunken, ugly, and 
quarrelsome, and greatly disliked by the Indians, who drove him 
off about a year or two before we came.^® 

The Counterfeiters 

About twenty rods down a ravine that runs from the north 
side of Little Green Lake, there was a cave, or excavation. Cut 
into its side was a crudely-made door, well hidden. This door 
was down when we come, and within the hole we found a com- 
plete counterfeiter's outfit, forge and all. It was for the manu- 
facture of spurious half-dollars, and may have been worked ten 
years or more. Le Roy told us that there were six or eight of 
the fellows, and they brought in their supplies and did their 
vrork by night. The forgers were not readily caught, because 
they never spent their bad money where it was made. The 
smoke of their fire came up as much as four rods from their cav- 
ern or shanty, in the middle of a very large old stump, around 
which sprouts had grown up, so that it was perfectly concealed. 

These half-dollars would get out at Green Bay, and the In- 
dians would receive them in their trading change. The authori- 
ties did not know where to look for their source. They had 
first-class Indian hunters and hounds on their track long before 



18 Henry Burling, now of Ripen, says that in his boyhood he uu 
derstood that Powell was mysteriously shot or burned in his shanty, 
and that what was said to be his grave was on his father's farm near 
Twin Lakes, and that for years his father plowed around the grave 
and kept it marked, but that later it was plowed under. Richard 
Dart thinks this was a mistake, and that Powell left the country. He 
would seem to be the same trader spoken of as "William Powell, who 
was present at the Portage when Pierre Paquette was shot; see Wis. 
Hist. Colls., vii, pp. 357, 387, 388. Probably he was a half-breed son 
of Peter Powell, a British trader in Wisconsin in the early part of the 
ISth century. — Ed. 

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they were caught, which was about two years before we came. 
We never knew who they were, nor what became of them. 

First Settlers 

Wiien we came from Green Bay in 1840, the trader James 
Knaggs w^as at Oshkosh, and there were a few settlers at Fond 
du Lac, and scattered about on isolated farmsteads.^® Waupun 
and Watertown w^ere but just begun. 

I have heard my father tell of his first trip to Milwaukee, 
through the woods. He borrowed an old horse from Le Roy and 
followed an Indian trail past Beaver Dam and through the 
WatertoAvn woods. He had nearly reached the latter settle- 
ment on Rock River, w^hen about sundown he came to a little 
shanty and clearing, and found there a sawmill with a per- 
pendicular saw. The proprietor was Pete Rogan, who offered 
him the mill-plant at a nominal sum, saying that he was land 
poor and Avanted to get away. Father did not accept this offer, 
but was afterwards sorry that he did not. 

The first election in Marquette County was held in the autumn 
of 1842 at our plank house, south of Green Lake. There were 
present Anson Dart, his sons George and Putnam, Pete Le Roy 
and his son, and William Bazeley, tenant on Beall's place. 
These constituted the entire polling-list. -° 

After the failure of Beall's mill on Twin Lake Creek, father 
built in 1846 on his own account another sawmill, where Dart- 
ford noAv stands. Smith Fowler, a half-breed from Stoekbridge, 
and I helped build the dam for this mill, going back and forth 
daily across the lake in a scow. We built a crib for the dam, 
and carried boulders in the scow, with which to sink it. Some 
relics of this mill still remain at Dartford. 

The same year, my father sold his farm, increased by that time 



19 The Pier family came to Fond du Lac in 1836-37, and Jolin Ban- 
nister and Mason C. Darling in 1838. The following year, Reuben 
Simmons built the first house at Taycheedah. Francis D. McCarty 
came the same season. Meanwhile Waupun had been begun by Sey- 
mour Wilcox, and the De Neveus were at the lake in Empire town- 
ship that is called by their name. — S. T. K. 

20 J. H. Colton, Western Guide, or Emigrant's Guide. (N. Y., 1845), 
gives Marquette County in 1840 a population of eighteen. — Ed. 

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Settlement of Green Lake County 

to 200 acres, to a man coming in from the South, Lowther Tay- 
lor by name. He received $12 an acre, a price that could not 
have been obtained again for thirty years. 

After the sale of the farm, our family went over to Dartford 
to live. "VVe were thus among the pioneers of the place that was 
named for my father. In addition to the sawmill, he built a 
grist-mill in 1850, and took in John Sherwood as partner. 

Early Politics 

Father was a Whig in politics, and was defeated in an elec- 
tion for state senator by Mason C. Darling of Fond du Lac, who 
was of Democratic proclivities. Sometime about 1846 or 1847, 
ex- Governor Horner sent word up the trail to father, that Dr. 
Darling was getting a bill through the legislature setting over a 
tier of three towns — the best in Marquette — into Fond du Lac 
County. Homer desired father to go down to Madison and de- 
.at the scheme if possible. Father was interested at once, as 
he was then locating a county seat for Marquette. He started 
for Madison and walked nearly all the way. Upon reaching the 
capital he found Horner's rumor a fact, and in the legislature 
four Democrats to every "Whig. He knew but few of the legis- 
lators and everything seemed against him. He went to work, 
however, interviewing and persuading, and succeeded in defeat- 
ing Darling's scheme in the house; but it was carried in the 
senate. The next year the bill came up again and was carried, 
taking off what are now Ripon, Metomen, and Alto townships 
from Marquette.^^ 

In 1848 father threw himself with ardor into the presidential 
campaign, and upon the success of the Whigs received in 1851 
the appointment of superintendent of Indian affairs in Oregon, 
with a salary of $8 per day. Just about this time the village of 
Dartford was formed and named for him. A lawyer named 
Hamilton was so angry upon learning of the new enterprise, 
that he went down to Madison and got the name changed to 



21 These three townships, 16-18 of range xiv east, were by the first 
territorial division in 1836 assigned, through an inadvertence, both 
to Marquette and Fond du Lac counties. By act of March 6, 1848, 
they were declared part of the latter county. — Ed. 

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Wisconsin Historical Society 

Arcade ; but the townspeople hearing of it in time, sent a dele- 
gation to preserve the name Dartford. 

P^ither took my second brother, Putnam,^^ with him to Ore- 
gon as his private secretary, and another brother to help him. 
They each had to pay $700 for fare from New York to San 
Francisco, by way of the Isthmus of Panama. Mother, my two 
sisters, one brother and I lived on at Dartford, but father never 
came back there to live. He had various political appointments, 
and after coming back from Oregon was in Europe for two 
years. He died August 12, 1879, at Washington, D. C. 

Mother and I were finally the only ones of the family left at 
Dartford, and she later went back to Williamsport, Pennsyl- 
vania, where she died at the age of sixty-eight. Of the fifteen 
or twenty early pioneers of Dartford, all of whom were our 
friends, not one is now living at that place. 



22 The only schooling my brother Putnam had was four or five years 
in a district school in New York, before we came to Wisconsin. So 
he took what books could be had, and educated himself. Nieht after 
night, after a hard day's work in the field or mill, he would sit by 
the fireplace with his book, sometimes until midnight. He thus be- 
came able to carry on all of father's correspondence as Indian com- 
missioner. 



[272] 



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